Black Magic Gone Wrong
by WolfessLizi
Summary: What happens when one of Arthur's spells backfire? (FrUk)
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Dumbledora the explora!... Eh?"

It had been a normal day of practicing black magic for Arthur Kirkland. The room was dark, the chalk lines were meticulously drawn on the floor. Normally, whenever he tried to summon a demon from the depths of hell, Ivan would pop his head through the portal and murmur a quick hello. However, something increasingly strange happened this time; it seemed as if nothing had occurred at all.

"What's going-" England stopped, eyes wide as he realized his voice was higher than usual.

A hand flew up to his mouth, in shock, yet paused when instead of the calloused hands of a man who had worked hard in his lifetime, his eyes were greeted with long, soft, slender fingers on a delicate hand. Something tickled the back of his neck, which he soon realized was hair!

Hesitantly, Arthur emerald eyes looked down. His orbs were met with two large breasts, and when he bent over to look more closely, a tiny waist. Arthur ran out of the basement he practiced magic in like a bat out of hell, and slammed the door to the nearest bathroom open with a loud thud. The mirror showed exactly what Arthur had been fearing-he was now a woman. His hair, which had been increasing in length during his entire sprint for the truth, was between his shoulder blades. His eyebrows were uncharacteristically trimmed, and his usual attire was now hanging from his petite frame.  
He was now a she.

"Oh my God... my Queen... what have I done? What's happened to me?" Arthur moaned.

Arthur fished out the phone hiding in the pants which were now slung low on his hips, quickly dialing the first number he came across-France.

After a few heart-wrenching rings, Francis picked up.

"_Bonjour_?"

"France!" England mewled, "Something terrible has happened!"

England's accent rang out loud and clear through the phone, however France was quite shocked at the feminine ring it took with it. "What's wrong, _mon cher_?"

England blinked before hanging up. There was _no way_ he could tell France that he was now... England slumped against the bathroom door for what seemed like hours. Slowly, he unlocked the door and strode to the kitchen for a cup of tea. Every step, every swing of the hips, pushed the realization into Arthur's body and soul. Tea was boiling in a kettle, with teabags set to the side, in a moment.

"Who will help me? I can't tell Alfred, besides the fact that our relationship has been quite lacking since the Revolution... Matthew doesn't talk to me anymore, I suppose he was tired of being ignored... Antonio is busy with Romano, Ludwig has his hands full with Feliciano..." The only person whom he could realistically rely on was France.

He glanced over the counter at his phone. 12 missed calls... shit. Slowly, his fingers glided over the lettered buttons. One by one, a single sentence was written on the screen.

_I need your help._

Before his pride could stop him, Arthur pressed send. Not even five minutes later, Francis burst through Arthur's back door. Arthur had to admit, he looked rather handsome with a panting chest, and flushed cheeks.

"_Mon cher_?! Are you al-" France froze as his eyes dragged down the length of Arthur's body.

"Hello, Francis."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

France and England had become friends of sorts over the years, though there was always a sort of tension that rose between them whenever they were in the same room. The mere fact that Arthur had called Francis was a large hurdle in their relationship-especially since England once claimed, _"You'd have to be the last bloody country on Earth before I ever__ call you for anything, you frog!" _Reasonably, Francis was quite concerned and shocked when the old dog had called him, of all people, in the middle of the day.

However, seeing the sight in front of him.. Well, Francis was becoming less surprised at Arthur's lapse of character.

England muttered, pride making him turn back to finish making his tea after mere moments.

"Britain... England, _mon ami_, what happened?" France smoothly stated, quietly walking to Arthur.

"If I bloody knew," Britain began, a scowl coating his plump lips, "Don't you think I would have had it fixed by now?" Unfortunately, Arthur couldn't help the squeak that resounded throughout the room with his question, and the slight quivering of the thicker flesh.

France couldn't help but notice the intensity of England's shaking hands. Carefully, so not to startle the trembling body in front of him, Francis reached forward and took the clattering cup from much smaller hands, and placed it upon the counter. Neither party expected what happened next. When asked later, Arthur would claim that it was caused by the flux of hormones, while others would say that the small male merely sought out comfort as humans often do.

Arthur lunged toward Francis, wrapping his shorter arms around the skinny male and burying his face in a white dress shirt.

Everything froze for a moment, before France wrapped his arms around the small creature in front of him, and held the new female to his chest.

"Shh.. _Chut. Tout va bien_. Hush, everything is okay." France began to murmur cautiously, running long fingers through the blonde locks gracing the figure before him.

**A small note:  
A frail body trembled slightly.  
A wet spot formed upon a Frenchman's shoulder.  
And not another word was said for quite some time.**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Predictably, it was Arthur who pulled away first.

"Well.." Arthur cleared his throat, coughing lightly, "What do we do now?"

Francis paused for a moment, long fingers moving to stroke the hair that graced his chin, before he once again looked down at the smaller female."Well, I would suggest you drink your tea before it gets too cold."

A scowl lite up Arthur's face, the skin reddening before he began to shout, rant and rave. "I don't mean _this moment_, you bloody frog! I mean how the hell am I going to fix this? I have no bloody clue how it happened in the first place!"

Francis gaped for a moment, before his eyes narrowed. "Why are you yelling at _me_? It's not my fault. You're the one who called _me_! You're the one who was crying on _my _shoulder!"

Arthur drew back as if he had been struck, emerald orbs widening.

His voice dropped to a mere whisper, "Then why did you come?"

Francis took a deep breath, moving to place a hand upon Arthur's pale shoulder. "I was worried, _mon ami_. You never message me, let alone call me. I knew something was going on as soon as your name flashed upon my screen. And now," Francis paused a moment, seemingly to gather his thoughts, "I understand why now. Truly, you must be rather upset."

Arthur barely withheld a nasty retort, choosing instead to focus his gaze upon the ceiling. "One... Two... Three..."

By the time he reached one hundred for the third time, Arthur was much less angry, and a trite more upset. Without thinking, Arthur moved to rest his forehead upon the Frenchman's shoulder once more. "Ugh, why is your shirt wet?"

France, in a moment of tact, decided to ignore the quite obvious jab he could make, to move his hands to thread in blonde tresses. The moment was disrupted when a loud growl came from the woman's stomach. Francis chuckled, his laughter progressing into shoulder-wracking guffaws. Even England was laughing now, tears forming in his eyes, and his arms wrapped around his stomach tightly. The entire situation was ridiculous, unrealistic, completely improbable even.

"We should..." Laughter disrupted France, but within a few moments of giggling and gasping, he was able to continue, "We should... call Russia... maybe he would know... how to fix this."

At these words, Arthur's laughter became hysterical. "Ivan? You _have_ to be _joking_."

England's forehead moved to rest upon the cold counter-top, the nation struggling to regain his breath and at least a portion of his dignity. Yes, he knew that going to Ivan was the logical answer, but... Even still, Arthur didn't want his embarrassment out for all of the world to see. As much as he hated the thought, he was going to have to rely on Francis. Arthur was going to have to put his trust in the man he had been engaging in a pissing contest with for over several centuries.

"Hey, France...?"

"Yes, Britain?"

"You're..." Arthur couldn't bring himself to say the words. Never in a million years would he have guessed that Francis would be right about anything, let alone necessary for the solution to a rather intensive problem.

He sighed, holding his head in his hands before he muttered the words. "I need your help."

"Yes," Francis replied, "I am aware."

England's eye twitched, "I mean I'm going to need your bloody assistance to get to Russia before anyone else sees me like this."

France blinked, completely still for a moment. "Well, I suppose I could try to help..."

Before Francis could finish his sentence, both of their phones began to ring simultaneously.

"_Bonjour_?" "Yes?"

"It's Germany. Ve're holding a Vorld Meeting. England and France are the only ones not represented here."

Both countries hung up rapidly.

"Oh shit."


End file.
